Wednesday, March 26, 2003

despondent dust dancer

I throw a glass at you. lose my shit and find myself. can't put a price on it. this aint right and i aint wrong. night and day put to the side. sleeping in a deep bright cave. lose what you find, hate what you save. it's dirty dirty world but i got a bowl and a broom.

the fleecing of Sacagawea

sound & fury in colonial america. judging amy with a pistol in her pocket. Open plains and smoke on the horizon and in the middle of a mid western city street. palms & break lights & white nights and stranded bystanders waving. bargain sale components on narrow street side walkways. in the burgeoning days, evil was good and good intensions didn't fit in. Reversing history with the flick of a switch.

Thursday, March 20, 2003

on the brink

Maximum capacity reached stranded in the breech, on the brink and at attention the lanyard wire rests transparent in the street Renoir ate the leaves of the thistle tree I want to join him on the edge of the sea bulging arrows point into thin air the bulk of the weigh propped on the edge of the gate swaying only in the heaviest of winds gallantly gleaming with the pride of a whore the stranded minds of our pigeon chested leaders want me to wear the cap that reads- this war is a bore. I ain't gonna watch no war no more